


Objective 1: Find someone to protect. Objective 2: Don't fuck it up this time.

by SavageSeraphim



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Bodyguard Michael, Drabble, FAHC, Fake AH Crew, Gavin is not qualified to deal with this, M/M, Michael needs to address his issues and he doesn't, Pickpocket Gavin, Pre-Fake AH Crew, they do their best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 11:05:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10333259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavageSeraphim/pseuds/SavageSeraphim
Summary: It's a working title.Michael ‘Mogar’ Jones the fighter with bloody, bruised knuckles and a hunger for the fight, for the thrill of it, trained as a shield. Trained as a bodyguard, as the front line soldier, and he’s fucking good at it. He’s proud of it, even if the people he defends don’t particularly interest him, even if he’s not all that attached.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr at http://friends-love-each-other.tumblr.com as a random thought drabble that got longer than intended.

Michael ‘Mogar’ Jones the fighter with bloody, bruised knuckles and a hunger for the fight, for the thrill of it, trained as a shield. Trained as a bodyguard, as the front line soldier, and he’s fucking good at it. He’s proud of it, even if the people he defends don’t particularly interest him, even if he’s not all that attached. 

He takes his cash and he takes the praise and he beams from it. Because really, much as Mogar fights for himself, Michael is always eager to show off what he’s capable of, to show his value tallied up in violet bruises and broken bones. 

The trouble with counting his worth that way is when he fails, when someone slips through his defense and tears the man he’s meant to be shielding down to nothing. And even if it weren’t for the threats that accompany failure Michael Will Not face the condemnation, the disappointment of a botched job, and he runs. 

Maybe that’s how Gavin finds the smart-mouthed brawler on the streets of Los Santos, long before Geoff, long before the Fakes. The only gold on him is in flashes of stolen jewelry, quickly pawned off to pay for rent, for food, the basic essentials that he’s only barely keeping in check. He pegs the man as an easy enough target, charming him with a honeyed voice and lingering touches as they walk along the same direction, flirting along the line of distraction and interest.

Until Michael snatches the hand in his pocket, grabbing back his wallet and nearly leaving behind bruises, ready to give the silver-tongued stranger an impromptu lesson in back-alley brawling that Gavin’s already learned one too many times. 

It takes every scrap of tact and convincing that Gavin has to turn the situation around, offering, among other things, a free couple nights on his couch and a hot meal if Michael will consider, working with/for the pickpocket. Just stick around, only step in if it looks like Gavin’s in trouble, and he does his best to make it sound like easy money. 

It’s almost a shock that Michael accepts without even taking much time to think about it and before long it’s a partnership, vaguely uneasy but a partnership nonetheless. Gavin’s a thief and a decent one at that, gets away easy more often than he doesn’t and when he doesn’t, it takes barely a moment before Mogar is between him and the unlucky bastard who happened to notice being robbed. 

It always ends in a fight, and Michael always wins.  
Until he doesn’t, of course.

It’s a target Gavin should’ve never picked, probably wouldn’t have if he wasn’t a little bevved - And maybe that’s why he gets caught, lifted up by the collar of his shirt. Despite the man’s size, the cruel sneer to his mouth, Gavin can’t bring himself to be afraid. He can see his ‘boi’ immediately rising from the seat he’d taken up at the bar, brass knuckles catching the low lights. He always looks invincible like this, eager even as he yanks Gavin back and behind him, shirt rumpled but unharmed.

It’s how this always goes, Michael getting in between Gavin and whomever he’s pissed off, cocky grin begging for a fight, making himself the target. But this time it’s not just one man, it’s his buddy and his buddy’s girlfriend whose bored expression turns quickly to cruelty in a blink, and between the three of them Mogar goes down hard. 

It’s all Gavin can do to hand over the stolen cash and some of his own, a plethora of excuses ready on his lips that die as he’s taunted. 

Real piece of work.  
Letting some poor bastard take a beating for him.  
Pathetic brat.

They let him go without spilling anymore blood, leaving him to half support, half carry the battered brawler out of the bar and into the parking lot.

Gavin gets Michael into the car and has to wait it out, wait for his boi to wake up because it’s his car and Gavin can’t even drive it on his own, plus Michael would probably kill him if he figured out he’s tried it.  
It takes longer than he’s expecting and it’s hard not to get antsy, worried, but eventually Michael fully comes to.

And he doesn’t berate Gavin for his sloppy work picking his target or failing to pull off the pickpocket, only driving them both home and making a beeline for the couch that had quickly become Michael’s within a week of them working together.

Gavin tries to offer him the bed and the bodyguard only scoffs at him, shaking his head and getting comfortable in his regular space.

And it’s only after a couple days that Gavin takes off - ‘Resting up’ - That he realizes Michael won’t joke with him anymore, keeps turning down his offers of playing games or grabbing food. Not out of anger, far as Gavin can tell, but he’s always tired, or busy, until it just doesn’t seem reasonable anymore and Gavin hasn’t got a choice but to confront him about it.

The confrontation can hardly be called that at first, just Gavin’s prodding questions and Michael’s noncommittal answers until -  
“I fucked up, okay? The least you can do is acknowledge it. Appreciate you letting me heal up here but I’m not a damn pity case, if you don’t want to work I’ll leave.”

It takes more time than Gavin would like to admit to piece together Michael’s perspective, the idea that it was somehow his fault he couldn’t finish a fight Gavin had started with the odds so heavily stacked against him it was almost laughable if it wasn’t so fucked up. 

Explaining that doesn’t seem to help either, Michael’s only getting more and more irritated until Gavin drops it and snaps back at him the only way he thinks might keep the brawler at his side.  
“What, you’re gonna just run off? Big scary Mogar with his tail between his legs because you lost? Get over yourself, we’ll go out tonight if you stop sulkin’ like a baby.” 

For a brief moment, Gavin is fairly certain Michael is about to beat his ass, or at the very least storm out, but all he gets is a curt nod and the tension fades. More or less. He tries to steer clear of targets that look too dangerous, that have friends hanging around. 

Michael doesn’t play as much with his fighting anymore. Before he’d show off to his ‘boi’, snarl out threats and insults. Now he’s more brutal, more efficient. It’s almost frightening how little he holds back. Gavin thinks he might kill someone one of these days, even though that’s never been part of the game plan. 

Despite Michael’s new methods, their relationship builds up until something a little more. A little more teasing, more inside jokes and time spent with their shoulders brushing on the couch, bumping into each other in the tiny kitchen, going out just for the fun of it. Their pockets are a little heavier - Both practice and motivation keep Gavin’s fingers quick and Michael takes odd jobs with smaller crews, but he always comes back to Gavin at night.

They’re an unbreakable unit by the time Ramsey finds them, the clever pickpocket with a silver tongue and his brutally efficient, loudmouth bodyguard. He hires them, perhaps without fully realizing the repercussions of having a duo within a team. Months down the line, he regrets it intensely. Years later, he knows he’d have been a fool to let them slip through his fingers.


End file.
